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11 January 2009 @ 09:47 pm
Fic: Police Procedure  
Title: Police Procedure
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Batsy/Joker
Summary: Bruce Wayne gets pulled over for speeding and is surprised to find that the officer has a very familiar set of scars.
A/N: Inspired by the fantastic comic strip by ebocthebuffle starring Bruce Wayne and Officer!Joker--which can be found here:
super sexy comic

So this was supposed to be a smutty PWP, but it sort of evolved into a slightly more complicated one-shot...but it does feature Lamborgini!sex....the best kind :)






Bruce Wayne liked to drive fast.

His first car, a modest Ferrari F50, had been a gift from Alfred after Bruce had successfully passed his driving exam (although he used the word ‘passed’ for simplicities sake--explaining that he had failed the exam four times and finally succumbed to bribing his examination seemed a little more complicated). He had failed, not due to a lack of technical skill, but because he consistently refused to drive within the speed limit. It was, as Bruce liked to explain, a lifestyle choice.

It was a lifestyle choice that he couldn’t explain, because he didn’t fully understand why. He just knew that when he drove, all the doubt and conflict in his mind seemed to fade, leaving a sense of tranquility, of satisfaction.

For a man who had everything, Bruce rarely got what he wanted. He had learned this truth about his life at an early age. He hadn’t wanted to be a Wayne, but by circumstances beyond his control he was born into a family of ludicrous wealth whose name was synonymous with Gotham city. As the last surviving Wayne, Bruce was, at the age of six, catapulted to a level of celebrity that not even a well-adjusted child could have coped with. For a shy, traumatized child--it was devastating. The tabloids hounded him, they climbed through windows and broke into the manner just to snap a photo of the boy grieving. Six months after his parents died, Bruce distinctly remembered bursting into tears at his birthday party when they were mentioned. Bruce had been viciously described in the papers as “a disturbed, spoiled child with no regard for limits or rules of polite society” and as “a troubled, maladjusted boy who heedlessly defames his namesakes.”

As an adult, Bruce realized with a sardonic sense of irony that those reporters had been better judges of character than they realized.

Bruce Wayne, was a persona who had been built by the city of Gotham. Bruce had very little say in the man he ultimately became. For the most part, he coped. He gave Gotham city what it wanted, a spoiled, sweet playboy with a very altruistic side. It wasn’t a bad life. He would never want for anything and he was always in the company of beautiful, intelligent women who showed him nothing but adoration and respect. Bruce often found himself enjoying the life--who couldn’t?

But it was not the life Bruce wanted. And he knew this on a very deep, very painful level of his being. If one stripped away the lies and illusions, underneath the persona of Bruce Wayne was a very unhappy, lonely boy who had grown into an unhappy, lonely man. This knowledge disturbed Bruce. Deeply.

Rarely did he indulge in moments of self-understanding or exploration. He avoided therapy like the plague. Those ugly feelings of confinement and loneliness and disillusionment scared Bruce because they made him question the whole point of his lifestyle. Bruce Wayne was a mask for Batman. Partly, Bruce continued the playboy persona to hide what he considered to be his true self and separate identity. Batman was, as Bruce had told himself for years, the man Bruce wanted to be. If Bruce wasn’t satisfied as Batman, someone he actively made the choice to be, than what was the point of all this misery?

It was a question that haunted Bruce. And one he refused to answer. Denial had worked, Bruce had constructed a wall around that question and it’s answer. It had taken years to build and fortify, but it was sturdy and Bruce was safe. It had taken Bruce seven years to create Batman and all he represented.

It had taken the Joker a matter of months to tear him down.

The Joker had immediately sensed this question in Bruce, this weakness. Like the keen predator he was, the Joker seized upon this question and with massive jaws bit into it, tore it to shreds. It was as though the Joker had infected Bruce. And that poison spread through Bruce, tore at his walls and barriers and drew that horrifying question further towards the surface. He had infected Bruce with the answer...

And it was not the answer Bruce wanted.

The only time Bruce felt at peace was when he drove. With his hands wrapped around a leather steering wheel and the wind in his hair, Bruce felt at peace. In his everyday life, hopping from party to party, from rooftop to rooftop--he was tormented by a nagging sense of disappointment. He was haunted by the knowledge that both lives left him wanting. When he was driving, shattering the speed limit and with the engine purring, Bruce wasn’t Batman and he wasn’t Bruce Wayne--he was someone else. He was just a man living and he was...happy.

Once he got into the drivers seat and broke the speed limit--Bruce could drive for hours. Sometimes he spent entire nights just driving through the winding back roads miles from the city, past the suburbs. Sometimes he considered just never turning back towards the pinpricks of lights on the horizon, the city that created him, the city that mocked him with this sense of dissatisfaction.

He supposed it was just masochism that ultimately made him turn around and head back to Gotham city.

It was a cloudy sunday evening that found Bruce in the lamborghini, three and a half hours from the city, driving through the roads of the country. The road was lined with bright, orange street lamps that passed over Bruce’s head quickly. The car was roaring and Bruce was pushing ninety five miles an hour. The road was a winding, twining thing. Bruce flew along it at a breakneck speed, navigating the car expertly around sharp turns. He hadn’t even bothered to wear a seat belt.

An easy, genuine smile played on Bruce’s lips.

He flung his head against the headrest with a satisfied sigh. The moon hung heavily in the sky, out here, away from all the lights of the city--it looked huge. It seemed to take up all of the sky. With one hand on the wheel, Bruce casually unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He was wearing a gray Armani suit that had been expertly tailed to hug his lean figure. The shirt, though, was stifling. He wanted to feel the wind on his neck. He loosened the red Brooks Brother’s tie and, with a smirk, tore off the top three buttons. He had twenty six other white button down shirts.

With his neck exposed, Bruce sighed and licked his lips. It was so peaceful.

The purr of the engine was disturbed by a wail of sirens. Bruce blinked and quizzically glanced into the rear view mirror. There was a police car behind him, sirens blazing. Bruce cursed and waited for a moment, convinced that the car would shut their sirens off. The cops had stopped trying to ticket Bruce years ago.

The little cop car was determined.

Bruce sullenly slowed down and pulled into the shoulder lane. He hastily found his license and registration, pulling the papers onto his lap. He watched through the rear view window as the cop slipped out of his car. The cop was wearing a crisp blue uniform, complete with pristine white gloves and a cap. And he was...fit. Bruce blinked and looked again into the rear view mirror. The cop was young and built, blue shirt tucked into a pair of low, tight pants. Since when did cops wear such tight pants?

He walked up to the drivers side window with a slump and a twitchy gait that made Bruce frown. The cop kept his head down, cap covering his face with a long shadow. He knocked on the window and Bruce rolled it down cooperatively.

The cop angled his flashlight right into Bruce’s eyes--making the billionaire squint. He could have sworn the cop was smiling.

“Do you have,” the cop paused, “any idea how fast you were going?” His voice was low, but seemed false, as though the cop was disguising it--badly. That voice practically hummed with energy and with thinly veiled amusement.

“Ninety five.”

“Ooh, smart ba--boy.”

Bruce frowned, “Uh, officer...I’m sorry to be speeding, I’m, uh...in a hurry.” For some reason, his good ol’ boy charm wasn’t working--he knew what smile to use and what words to say--but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

“Sir, I’ll need you to step out of the vehicle,” The cop purred.

“Is that...necessary?”

“You were going very fast. I’ll just need to search your person and the vehicle for any, uh, illegal items--like....bats. You know a shipment of norwegian bats was just stolen from the zoo an hour ago. Very rare bats.”

Bruce blinked against the harsh, bright light. “Bats?”

“Norwegian bats...”

The billionaire quickly concluded that this man was insane.

“I’m Bruce Wayne.” Bruce deadpanned.

“And I’m Shirley Temple...”

“No, officer, really--I can show you my--”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you step out of the vehicle,” The officer demanded, somehow he managed to sound like he was joking.

Bruce gave and irritated sigh, “you can’t be serious! Look, I’m Bruce Wayne, okay?”

“That’s fine, sir, but I re-he-he-he-heally need you,” he tched, “to get outta the car.” He voice had a twang, a strange way of sharpening the ‘a’. It was almost midwestern.

“I’m not getting out of the car!” Bruce insisted. “This is insane.”

“Completely batty ,” The Officer agreed.

“So let me go....”

“I’m just trying to do my job sir,” The cop said with mock sincerity.

Bruce was convinced the bastard was just fucking with him--he could see a flash of teeth. “I was speeding! I get it, write me a ticket and let me go--those are the rules!”

The cop laughed and then quickly muffled the sound.

The billionaire’s eyes narrowed. That laugh was distinctly familiar, but it had been so brief that Bruce couldn’t exactly place it. “Will you turn off the light?” Bruce growled.

“Why, is it bothering you?”

Bruce gritted his teeth and hissed, “A little, yeah.”

“Don’t like light?”

“...I tend to be nocturnal.”

With a huge grin, the cop rested his elbows on Bruce’s open window and arched his back. It was an exaggerated pose that Bruce mostly associated with women. The pose also brought the cops face even closer, he was practically inside the car. The flashlight was so close that it was hurting Bruce’s eyes. The cop had the nerve to waggle it back and forth.

“Stop that!”

The Cop just smacked his lips and moved the flashlight a little closer. Bruce’s hands clenched on the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went right. “You really should relax,” The cop said, voice mocking and utterly sardonic, “You look like the kinda man who takes himself too seriously. You know men like that tend to go bald younger.”

Bruce’s face contorted into an irritated scowl, “I am not going bald!”

The cop reached forward with a gloved hand and poked Bruce’s forehead. “Right there.”

Flustered, Bruce patted his scalp, fingers combing through his hair. “I do not have a bald spot!”

“Uh, yeah, you do.”

“I don’t!” Bruce snarled. He took a slow breath and willed himself to calm down. “I’m calling Commissioner Gordon,” Bruce said calmly, “And I’m going to report you for harassment.”

“You absolutely should--luring me all the way out here and not even giving me a kiss--I feel so used.”

Bruce’s mouth dropped.

The cop’s voice lowered, dropped it’s teasing edge. “You know, Mister Wayne,” he leaned closer, “You have a very,” he licked his lips, “Distinctive set of lips...”

Bruce froze. It was the sound of the officer licking his lips that made everything fit into place. The laugh, the twangy voice, the insanity--this was the Joker. It had to be the Joker. And then bats. Bruce’s eyes widened, his heart leapt into his throat. The Joker knew.

“They sort of remind me of a bat...” The Joker purred.

“You’re insane...” Bruce said smoothly, “The hell are you talking about?”

He must have sounded convincing because the Joker seemed unsure all of the sudden. The Joker took a step away from the car window and Bruce realized that he could have just driving away, left the Joker standing there. But he was frozen in place, unable to move.

“Cruel, Batsy. You really know how to hurt a girl--after you took advantage of little ol’ me--Remember?” Bruce sighed heavily, he could picture shiny, red lips curling into a nasty smirk. The Joker kept a gloved hand pressed to the car and leaned inside again. He turned the flashlight off and tossed it onto the road where it fell with a sharp click. They listened to the flashlight roll.

Bruce could see the Joker clearly now, scars pale and shiny curving from the corners of his lips. Without makeup, the Joker managed to be remarkably good looking. His features were distinct, memorable and his eyes were as sharp and mocking as ever--even without all that greasepaint they managed to glitter with an impish compulsion to destroy.

His mind was caught in a continual loop, replaying a memory from the Joker’s last escape from Arkham. It had been the Joker’s proximity that triggered it, that hot breath on his ear, the knowledge of scarred lips pressed against--

Batman slammed the Joker against a brick wall. They were somewhere in the financial district and the Joker had been planting bombs in the headquarters of mortgage giant Pierce & Pierce.

“It was just a little joke, Batsy!” The Joker protested. He was roughly slammed into the wall face first--again. The treatment forced a laugh from him, “You know, you take yourself too seriously.”

Batman fisted one hand in the Joker’s hair and the other in his vest. He easily lifted the clown off the ground. Toes dangling in the air, the Joker giggled. Batman shook him, “Where are the bombs?”

“What bombs? I absolutely abhor the use of violence,” The Joker cackled in a false southern accent. Batman kneed him in the groin. “Ooh! Mister Batman, that is no way to treat a lady! Especially not your little squeeze,” He dropped the accent, “I should have you arrested for domestic abuse!”

Batman made a disgusted groan and shook the Joker.

“Really Batsy, this is no way to treat your only friend in the whole entire city, hm? I’m the only one who knows you aren’t a killer...”

That comment inspired an ugly rage in Batman. He slammed the Joker against the wall again and punched him in the jaw. Panting, the vigilante delivered a swift kick to the Joker’s side.

The green haired man still managed to cackle, “But no worries, battycakes, we can fix that--right now! Just keep on kicking me and, uh, soon they’ll all be right about you!”

He backhanded the Joker, the sound of kevlar against flesh seemed to echo.

“Have you ever noticed,” The Joker said, smacking his lips, “That no matter how many times ya smack me around, you’re still angry?” He moved closer to Batman, eyes cruel and glittering. “It doesn’t seem like this makes you feeeeel any better.”

“You don’t know me.” Batman snarled.

“Oh I know you,” The Joker giggled, “C’mon, cupcake--I’m the only one in this city who does know you! I know you like this, you like to hit me. You’re not the gentleman bat you pretend to be. All this dark knight crap is bullshit. You’re not a knight. You’re just angry, like me, you just wanna make someone bleed,” He sneered.

“Shut up!” Batman slammed his heel into the Joker’s foot. He grabbed the clown’s face and shoved his cheek into the brick wall, leaving a smear of white paint on the wall.

“Don’t deny it, honey bunches, it’s just a compulsion at this point! You can’t stop.” The Joker glanced up at Batman questioningly, knowingly. “You can’t stop because your real life is unbearable, but you can’t be Batman either--because he’s a lie too. Will the real Batman please stand--”

Batman cut the clown off with a punch to the jaw. He spun the clown around and slammed his back into the wall. The Joker’s head bounced against the brick. He saw little bats dancing at the edge of his vision. “This is what I want,” Batman rasped. “I want to keep scum like you--” The Joker became terribly limp against Batman, as if all the strength had been leeched from him. Then Batman noticed that the Joker was unnconcious. “Shit.” He slapped the clown lightly.

Blinking, the Joker glanced lazily around. He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut--as if he were in pain. Lazily, he purred, “Who’re you trying to convince, me or you, sweetness?”

Batman looked disturbed.

“What--bat gotcher tongue?”

It took Batman a moment to realize that the Joker hadn’t remembered passing out. He’d only been unconscious for a few seconds, but he didn’t remember it. Batman sighed heavily--he’d hit the Joker harder than he thought. “Stay still.” He checked the Joker’s head for bleeding.

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” The Joker said with a dirty chuckle.

Batman groaned in disgust.

“I’m pretty sexy, ya know. I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it huuuuurrts.” The Joker’s sang loudly and out of tune. “I’m too sexy--”

“No you’re not.” Batman interrupted. “You’ve got a concussion. I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“You’re such a bleeding heart!” The Joker giggled. “You could just leave me here, I’ll probably bleed into my skull....but that won’t be your fault. Your rule is thatcha don’t kill...doesn’t mean you have to save me....”

Batman silently gathered the Joker into his arms, careful to keep the clown’s head level.

“And yet you do anyway--the dark knight!” The Joker gasped dramatically. “Oh fucking spare me. What’s the deal, Batsy? Really.”

“I won’t kill you--”

“Boooring.” The Joker said in a sing-song voice. “Don’t be so damn predictable, I know you’re not.”

“I can’t just leave you here.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?”

“God, you’re so irritating--you’re driving me insane!” Batman gritted. He walked carefully to the tumbler and set the Joker on the hood. Underneath the street lamps he checked to make sure the Joker’s eyes were level. His pupils, while huge, were level--he wasn’t bleeding into his skull yet.

“That’s the point-uh.” The Joker purred.

Batman checked the Joker’s skull again for any dents or bleeding. He couldn’t decide if the nausea was prompted by anxiety or disgust. He silently prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that it was disgust. When the Joker flopped limply onto his back, Batman’s heart leapt. Like a rag doll, the clown’s back slammed against the hood of the tumbler, while he feet dangled uselessly off the side. Scrambling, Batman practically climbed onto the hood and checked the Joker’s vitals.

There was a slow, steady pulse.

Batman’s heart rate dropped back to normal. Definetly anxiety. He rubbed his cheek with a gloved hand and almost started pacing. Cursing the Joker, Batman heaved a sigh. What was the deal? He couldn’t let the Joker die. As disgusting and sick and twisted as the clown was...life was even more unbearable without him. He was the only thing left that gave Batman a sense of purpose, a reason for existing. Without the Joker, Bruce was fairly convinced that Batman would simply sink into the depths of his psyche, never to emerge. And in spite of the horrible sense of want and dissatisfaction that filled his days and nights, Bruce was sure that sense would be even sharper without Batman.

Of course that begged the question, was it Batman or the Joker that made Bruce’s shadow of a life tolerable.

It was another question Batman didn’t want to know the answer too. Recently, that list was growing larger and larger. He glanced at the clown.

The Joker’s eyes fluttered open. He pressed a purple gloved hand to his head and lurched upright. “Roofies? God, Bats, I thought you were classier than that.”

Batman quickly moved towards the Joker. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. It was a compulsion. He checked the Joker’s vitals again and decided just to call an ambulance. Almost as an after thought, Batman asked, “Bombs?”

“Thirty fifth floor in, uh, the water fountain.”

“Brilliant. Why?”

The Joker shrugged.

Batman rolled his eyes.

“I don’t plan, Batsy, I just doooo.”

“Bullshit. You’re fuckin’ OCD.”

The Joker smacked his lips and had the decency to look annoyed. “I’m just trying to spread a little anarchy. You can’t plan chaos.”

“And yet you do.”

”Do not.” The Joker snapped.

Batman just glared.

The Joker grinned and waggled a finger at Batman, urging him closer. “C’mere. I got a secret.” Batman crossed his arms over his chest. The Joker whined, “C’meeeere, you’ll like it--I promise.” Grudgingly. Batman took a step towards where the Joker was seated on the hood of the tumbler. “Closer.” He shuffled closer. “Clooooser.” Batman was one step from behind between the Joker’s legs. “I don’t bite.” Batman took the last step. He was between the Joker’s thighs and he and the clown were almost at eye level.

With a savage grin, the Joker took a breath, as though he were about to speak.

Then, he lunged forward and kissed Batman. The Joker’s thighs were clamped around him and his arms were twined around Batman’s neck, trapping the vigilante. He was sloppy and managed to get saliva all over Batman’s chin. His tongue and teeth worked against Batman’s unresponsive lips, with a particularly savage bite, Batman’s lips dropped. The Joker took advantage. His tongue slipped into the hot, wet cavern of Batman’s mouth and rubbed, slyly, against Batman’s teeth. Then, the Joker’s tongue slithered around Batman’s own, teasing and taunting. But there was a heat to that kiss, a genuine emotion and need that simply couldn’t be faked. The Joker writhed against him and Batman stayed utterly still, mimicking a statue. His cheeks, however, flushed.

The Joker finally pulled away, licked his lips. He let his arms drop and his legs relax. Batman could have slipped away. Instead the vigilante remained frozen, unable to even breath. The Joker panted and smirked, “How’s that for chaos?”

With one, simple, devastating action, the Joker had managed to completely redefine their entire history. For a good minute, Batman stared, mind working, all the quips, the leers, the insinuations hadn’t been designed to irritate, although that was a desired reaction, they were confessions.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” The Joker gasped. He grinned impishly. “I, uh, figured you’d have started hitting me by now, though. See, this is why I like you Batty! You’re predictable...but in an unpredictable way,” The Joker sounded thrilled.

“Oh my god.” Batman couldn’t help but murmur. He leaned against the tumbler on the Joker’s left. “What is wrong with you?”

“Lotta big words.” The Joker kissed him again, desperately and fiercely. He curled his hands in Batman’s cloak and pulled himself closer to the costumed man. The Joker’s lips, teeth, and tongue worked frantically. He kissed Batman as though he would crawl inside him. This time Batman willingly parted his lips. With a muffled giggled, the Joker’s tongue explored Batman’s mouth, slithered against his tongue and traced every crease and furrow of the inside of his cheeks. The clown seemed to marvel at the smoothness there. Batman pulled away, the Joker grunted and darted forward to lick Batman’s lips, tracing them with his tongue, memorizing the shape and the taste.

They were interrupted by sirens in the distance.

The Joker pulled away, singing, “I was made for lovin’ you baby, you were made for looovin’ me...” Then he promptly turned away and vomited.

Batman sighed.


A nightstick brushing his cheek brought Bruce into the present. He glanced up at the Joker and let his eyes belay an absolute terror. “P-please, I don’t know what you want. Just leave me alone.”

The Joker cocked his head. The nightstick was withdrawn. The Joker looked puzzled, for a moment Bruce though he would get away with it. “Only one way to find out...” The Joker murmured.

He swooped down and pressed his lips against Bruce’s. The Joker kissed him with a familiar frenzy, a wild abandon found only in those who had nothing left to loose. A wet tongue slithered across Bruce’s lips, satisfied, the Joker grinned and nipped playfully on Bruce’s lower lip. The Billionaire stubbornly kept his lips shut. He could sense the Joker’s irritation and he doubled his efforts, lavishing attention on Bruce’s closed lips, working his mouth frantically. Bruce was smirking now and coyly denied the Joker. With a low growl, the Joker bit into Bruce’s lip again, this time sharply, drawing blood. Bruce opened his mouth to snarl. Instead the Joker grabbed Bruce’s tie, tugging him closer. The Joker’s tongue plunged into Bruce’s mouth. He baited Bruce’s, teasing and begging and practically inviting it to come play. The Joker kissed him feverishly and skillfully. It was entirely different breed of kiss from the one before. That was a confession, tentative and desperate. This was just pure lust, unadulterated want and it was making Bruce’s world hazy. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was the feeling of the Joker’s lips against his.

The Joker pulled away suddenly and with a nasty smirk.

With a growl, Bruce fisted his hands in the Joker’s suit and pulled him down for another kiss. The Joker didn’t play coy, he met Bruce evenly. Their mouths worked frantically, tongues sliding against each other and lips crushed together. Bruce hissed into the Joker’s mouth and his tongue explored every inch of that warm, wet cavern. He traced the scar tissue on the inside of the Joker’s cheeks, lavishing attention on them, fascinated by them. His ministrations made the Joker deliciously submissive. Bruce kissed the Joker and used every trick he knew. He was determined to make the Joker whimper with desire, completely and utterly submissive to Batman. They’d discovered a new way to fight, one without fists or knives and one just as deadly.

Bruce pulled away, panting, hands still clutching the fabric of that crisp, blue uniform. The Joker’s face was inches from his and the clown was gasping, eyes feverish. 

“Get outta the car,” The Joker said breathlessly.

“Make me.”

Before Bruce could blink there was a gun pressed to his temple. He got out of the car and switched it off. The Joker recovered his composure and grinning, lead Bruce to the hood of the car. The Joker promptly discarded the gun and tossed his arms around Bruce’s neck. He angled his nightstick against Bruce’s throat, in his other hand was a pair of handcuffs which he twirled about a finger, “I think a full body search is in order...” The Joker cooed.

Bruce shot him a sardonic glare. Cackling, the Joker reveled in his dominance over the other man. He finally had the bat right where he wanted him. He roughly shoved Bruce against the hood of the car. The Joker fisted his hands in Bruce’s white shirt and kissed him again. The Joker was pressed against Bruce, body hot and lean, even through layers of clothes. He rubbed his hips against Bruce’s and sent a shiver through the taller man’s body. Bruce kissed the Joker in abandon. Slyly, the Joker pulled Bruce’s arms behind his own back, holding them there with one hand. His other hand was fisted in Bruce’s hair.

Later, Bruce had insisted to himself that it was a very distracting kiss and that was why he didn’t notice the Joker cuff his wrists behind his back--he hadn’t let the Joker do that.

With a smirk, the Joker grinned at the now handcuffed Bruce and purred, “Go ahead and spread ‘em, Batsy.”

Nonchalantly, Bruce complied, spreading his legs. “Is this typical police procedure?”

The Joker grinned at him. He quickly insinuated himself between Bruce’s thighs. Their hips were crushed together. The Joker’s breath hitched as he felt Bruce’s erection pressed against his. Bruce gritted his teeth together. The Joker rubbed, slowly, and watched as Bruce squeezed his eyes shut--determined to keep some semblance of dominance. With a smirk, the Joker buried his face in Bruce’s neck.

He began to bite at the delicate flesh he found there. The Joker nipped at the skin, savoring the taste. He bite down hard and Bruce took a sharp, shaky breath, he bit harder and was rewarded with a strangled grunt. The Joker pulled away, leaving raw, red teeth marks. He licked his lips and glanced up at Bruce. The billionaire’s pupils were blown wide and his cheeks were flushed. He had liked that, the Joker noted with satisfaction and curiosity.

Experimentally, the Joker nibbled at his collarbone, delicate at first. Then he clamped his jaws on a thin bit of flesh. Bruce gritted his teeth in an attempt to muffle another groan--it was a pained groan, but there was delicious edge of pleasure to it.

“Stop biting me,” Bruce growled.

With a giggle, the Joker bit Bruce’s neck again, harder than he had before. He drew blood and Bruce hissed in pain. The Joker drew away, and then, his eyes lit. He reddened his lips with Bruce’s blood and used a finger to trace the blood across his scars.

The Joker tried to bite more, but found that Bruce’s shirt was in the way. With an angry grunt, the Joker tore the billionaire’s shirt open and, with practiced hands, undid his tie. He licked his lips, Bruce’s muscled torso was framed by that open shirt and his tie hung uselessly around his neck. Bruce’s eyes were shut and his chest was heaving, his erection created an unseemly, erotic bulge in his tailored pants. The Joker giggled, “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat--how I wonder where your at?” His hand traced down Bruce’s chest to the waist of his pants.

Bruce’s eyes fluttered.

The Joker’s gloved hands toyed with the button on his pants, teasingly fingered his fly. He palmed Bruce’s erection and stroked it through those sinfully fitted pants. He could feel it twitching, even through his glove. “There’s the little bat,” The Joker said, smacking his lips. He watched Bruce closely, memorizing every hitch of his breath and every subtle twitch of his lips. His hand worked against Bruce, roughly palming Bruce, making his cock twitch. The Joker fisted one hand in Bruce’s hair and yanked.

Bruce’s hips twitched and he couldn’t restrain a slight moan. Emboldened, the Joker licked Bruce’s chest, tongue leaving a wet line as it trailed down his flesh. Bruce’s body was flawless, his skin was smooth and his muscles were perfectly defined. The Joker could have spent days just tracing patterns on Bruce’s skin with his tongue. His other other hand drifted from the bulge in Bruce’s pants to grab at his suit jacket. Joker tried to tug off Bruce’s jacket, only to find that it was getting caught on the handcuffs.

Distracted, the Joker pulled his tongue away from Bruce’s skin. He tugged with both hands at the suit jacket. “Goddamnit!” The Joker snarled.

“Maybe you should have undressed me before you put the hand--”

The Joker glared at the handcuffs and growled “Shut up!” In a frenzy, the Joker quickly found the keys in his pocket. He unlocked the handcuffs and tossed them onto the hood of the car. The Joker grinned and stripped Bruce of his suit jacket. He practically tore off his white shirt and threw the tie onto the road.

Bruce seized his chance and grabbed the Joker by his hair. He spun the Joker around and kissed him violently, shoving his lips against the Jokers. Bruce bit viciously at the Joker’s lips, finger tugging on his curls. He shoved the Joker against the Lamborghini’s hood and, with his free hand, pinned the Joker’s wrists above his head. He promptly slammed the Joker’s back against the hood and snatched up the handcuffs. Before the Joker could protest, his hands were neatly cuffed above his head. He tried to sit upright on the car, but Bruce pressed him onto his back.

The Joker looked irritated. “Not fair,” he snapped.

Bruce offered him a smirk and tugged on the Joker’s scarred lower lip with his teeth. He nibbled delicately on it, grinning as the Joker spread his legs and started to rub his hips against Bruce’s. The billionaire crushed their hips together. The Joker’s eyes rolled back in his skull and he wrapped his legs around Bruce’s hips. The clown’s hips started to twitch in wild abandon, desperately seeking friction.

Bruce licked his lips and looked down at the Joker.

The clown looked back at him, teasing, begging, mocking, inviting Bruce to join him in the depths of depravity.

A familiar nausea began to swell in Bruce’s stomach. He leaned down and paused a moment on the Joker’s neck. He tentatively licked at the skin, hot breath sending shivers down the Joker’s spine. Instead, Bruce moved higher onto the Joker’s body, ghosting past his lips and instead lingering on that cap. Bruce bit the cap, taking the brim between his teeth and pulled it from the Joker’s head. He spat it out and let his fingers tangle in the Joker’s green curls. Bruce tugged the Joker’s hair, forced the clown to arch his neck.

Bruce bit the Jokers neck, he didn’t even bother to disguise it as something tender or sweet. He bit, chewing and grinding the flesh between his teeth until he tasted blood. It was about control.

He let the Joker see him, lip cut from the Jokers own teeth and with the Joker’s blood upon his lips. Bruce watched in satisfaction as the Joker’s eyes clouded and his lips parted. The Joker was rabid and his hips twitched against Bruce’s.

With a smirk, Bruce moved to the Joker’s gloved hands, he pressed one knee onto the hood of the car between the Joker’s thighs. Using the knee, Bruce pulled himself onto the car, balancing himself above the Joker with his knee and palms spread on either side of the Joker’s head.

Bruce licked the gloved hands. The Joker gasped. He bit into the white fabric and pulled one glove off with his teeth. Then he moved to the other glove, pulling it off the same way. Beneath him, the Joker was dissolving into a pile of nerves, desperate for friction, for contact, for Bruce’s body. Bruce finally felt some measure of control over the maniac. He sucked one of the Joker’s fingers into his mouth, licked the digit from root to tip. The Joker’s eyes fluttered and he drew a sharp breath. Bruce pressed a kiss to the Joker’s palm and then pulled away. He slid off the car and planted both feet firmly on the road.

It seemed to hit Bruce all at once.

“Shit,” he snarled. He looked down at the Joker, flushed and lascivious and rubbed his face with one hand. “Fuck.” Bruce sighed. He slipped from between the Joker’s thighs and leaned against the hood of the car beside him. The billionaire rubbed his temples.

The Joker sat upright with an animalistic, wordless snarl.

“I have to take you to arkham,” Bruce said quietly.

“And they say I’m crazy--what is wrong with you!” The Joker practically screamed. “You are a pussy! A giant....Bat pussy!”

“We can’t do this--I can’t do this, it’s---”

“Blah, blah, blah, I’ve heard it all before.” The Joker hissed. His eyes were darkened by lust and rage, he was flushed and his hair was terribly mused. He was still hard and Bruce could see the outline of his erection through those blue pants. Bruce forced himself to look away. The urge to touch the Joker was undeniable. “Why?”

“It’s wrong. I--I don’t want this. I hate you.”

The Joker frowned, thinking. “Truth, lie, truth.” His gaze rested against Bruce’s body, heavy with knowledge. “Why?” Bruce stayed silent. The clown sighed, “My shrink would have a field day with you. Have you ever heard of, uh, therapy? Hmmm? You don’t know what the hell you want.”

“I hate you! I just...I want you dead!”

The Joker licked his lips, “Yeah, you do, but just out of some misplaced sense of masochism, right? Your misplaced sense of...self-righteousness. You just have to be miserable, don’t ya? You deny and you deny and you deny yourself any...fun, any...pleasure. And let’s be honest here, I am the closest thing you got to a friend, right?”

Bruce silently agreed.

“It’d be easier for you...if I were dead, because then you could just wallow in your little misery, because--why, you’re a bad, bad bat? Without me, you’d be...uh, safe, from temptation.

“Temptation?” Bruce sniggered. “You think I wanna be like you?”

“I know you want me. Because you can’t deny it either, can you? Nobody else does it for me like you do--Batsy, Bruce, whoever you are. And if I’m dead...no more temptation. You can just be miserable by your self. But you won’t kill me, because you don’t really want to be alone and miserable, who does? And you just can’t get over yourself....you want to kill me, but you don’t. You want to, but you can’t. And it’s not because of justice or order or any of that shit. You’re a selfish cunt and you won’t because I’m all you have.”

Bruce let those words sink in. “I hate you,” he decided.

“Thanks.” The Joker purred. Bruce looked disgusted, “Think about it, big boy. We live in a culture, a society of indifference, of apathy. Don’t you find it surprising that people are still capable of feeling anything, especially something so...powerful as hatred? You hate me? Well, sweetheart, that’s about the most meaningful thing you could possibly say.”

“You’re twisted.”

“I hate you too, Batsy. You irritate me. You still try and...pretend that you care about order and justice. You’d think that I wouldn’t have to work to prove to you that none of it’s real--I mean look at the world! There’s a genocide going on and nobody really cares. We slaughter thousands of people in the middle east, for...what? The tv and the papers just want blood, they feed off murder and rape and war. And the people just gobble it up. Can you honestly tell me that you believe in...justice?”

“I believe that there is good in people...”

“Yeah, what people?”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest.

The Joker threw his arms into the air in frustration. He flopped onto the car. He let his hands rest above his head, stretched his torso into a lean line. Bruce glanced over at him, licked his lips and looked away. “Well...I know I’m right...and you’re to deeply in denial to admit it,” The Joker sighed. “So...kill me or fuck me, I guess.”

With wide eyes Bruce looked at him. “Those are not....fair choices.” He said, voice edged with panic.

“Life ain’t fair, peaches--how old are you, six?” The Joker giggled, “I think that makes me a pedophile.”

Bruce stood there silently.

“I’m gonna have to make you hit me....”

“...probably...”

“I--I dunno, I sucked Harvey Dent’s cock.”

“Joker,” Bruce sighed, he looked at the clown in frustration, “C’mon, at least try.”

“You do it!” The Joker growled. “Why do I have to do all the goddamn work! I lure you outta your little bat cave, I plant the bombs, I piss you off--why don’t you do something for a change!”

It struck Bruce that they sounded like a married couple, bickering. He started to laugh. He laughed until the Joker looked at him with something akin to worry. Finally Bruce grinned at the Joker. “Okay...okay.” He slid between the Joker’s legs and looked down at him. “You make me sick,” he spat.

Bruce punched the Joker in the face. “You’re disgusting, you’re sick!” He slammed his elbow into the clown’s stomach. The Joker started to laugh. “Why did you come to Gotham! I was fine before you came!” The laughter was wriggling into Bruce’s mind like an infection. It was making him angrier and sicker. “You did this to me!” He backhanded the Joker. “I’m not like you!”

The billionaire slammed the Joker’s head into the Lamborghini. “I’m not like you! I would kill you, I swear to god I would! I will!” He pulled the Joker upright by his hair and screamed, “You kill her! I loved her!”

The Joker smacked his lips and in a bored voice purred, “She didn’t love you.”

That struck a chord in Bruce. He snarled wordlessly and pulled the Joker upright, only to spin him around and slam him into the hood of the car. Bruce kicked him in the shin, punched in in the kidney, slammed his face into the hod. He leaned over the Joker, fisted his fingers in those green curls and tugged the Joker’s face upright--arching the clowns neck.

“You like this, you freak?” Bruce snarled.

The Joker whimpered.

“You do this to me. You make me....sick!” Bruce screamed. He bit the Joker’s neck--hard. He bit viciously, like an animal until he drew blood. flipped the Joker over again and shoved himself between the Joker’s thighs. He crushed their hips together and rubbed.

The Joker’s eyes rolled back into his head. His cock was hard and straining against the fabric of his pants. Bruce spread the Joker’s legs wide and lurched forward, breathing on his erection. With a wail, the Joker thrust his hips at Bruce desperately.

With a feral grin, Bruce tore open the Joker’s blue shirt, revealing a pale, scarred torso. He nibbled at the Joker’s collar bone while his finger nails dug into the Joker’s pecs, leaving raw, red scratches. Bruce ran his blunt nails down the Joker’s stomach and then toyed with the waist band of his pants.

The Joker started to giggle, “I’m the freak, huh?” He glanced smugly at the bulge in Bruce’s Armani pants. Bruce slapped him and wrapped his hands around the Joker’s neck. He squeezed, not enough to cut off the Joker’s air, but just enough to make his eyes roll. The Joker shamelessly rubbed his hips, against Bruce’s. Unable to control himself, Bruce thrust back. His hips moved of their own accord. Bruce loosed his hands from the Joker’s throat and smacked him again. he moved to lick a long, wet trail down the Joker’s chest before stopped just above his groin.

Bruce tongue snaked underneath the waist of the Joker’s pants.

The clown arched his back and loose a shameless groan.
vHe ran his teeth down the front of the Joker’s pants--Bruce could feel the Joker’s cock twitch, even through the layer of cloth. Bruce smirked up at the Joke and licked the bulge in his pants. The Joker was flushed and panting, he was chewing on the back of his hand. Bruce just began to mouth the Joker’s cock through his pants. His tongue traced the rough fabric and he was satisfied to feel the Joker’s cock, hot and pulsating. Bruce’s mouth lingered until he could feel the Joker’s pants growing damp with precum.

Smirking, Bruce unbuttoned the Joker’s pants with his teeth. He looked up at the Joker, teeth positioned on the Joker’s zipper.

“Just do it!” The Joker hissed.

“Beg me.”

With a gasp, the Joker licked his lips. He couldn’t look at Bruce’s face because he was sure it would make him cum right then. But he couldn’t help but imagine Bruce’s lips on his cock--Batman sucking him off. “bat-tease.”

“Beg me,” Bruce demanded, voice slick and sooth as butter.

“Please?”

“Not good enough.”

“Please! God I need you to do it, I need it, I need you!”

“What do you need me to do...”

“Fuck me, suck it, fuck--anything!” The Joker wailed.

Bruce smirked, satisfied with his dominance. It was about control. “And they say you can’t control chaos.” He licked the front of the Joker’s pants again. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“As much as you do.” The Joker said with a grin, “More than the, uh, mad hatter wanted to screw Alice into the tea table.”

“Stop ruining children’s books.”

“More than Barney wanted to bang--”

Bruce silenced him by unzipping the Joker’s fly. The Joker wasn’t wearing underwear, his cock was hard and slick. It sprung against Bruce’s cheek, pulsing and twitching--demanding attention. With a nasty smirk. Bruce breathed on it.

The Joker muffled a groan.

Bruce’s tongue wondered around the Joker’s hip bones, licking like a cat at a saucer of milk. He coyly blew again on the Joker’s erection, watching with abandon as it twitched. The head was dripping and wet, the whole thing was slick in the streetlights. He kissed the tip, sloppily spreading saliva everywhere and looked up at the Joker through his lashes. Bruce pulled away, precum smeared all over his lips. He lurched forward to kiss the Joker fiercely.

“God, your...fuckin’ hot.” The Joker gasped.

Bruce licked the Joker’s lips.

“Fuck, yes, yes, oh god....please fuck me, please, pretty please with a cherry on top.” The Joker was babbling. He had degenerated into a bundle of nerves desperate to be touched and fucked and abused. Bruce ran his finger tips down the Joker’s chest, just that made the Joker bit his lips to muffle a groan.

The knowledge that he was doing this to Bruce, forcing the man to shed his control, his aloofness, was making the Joker harder than he’d ever been.

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Bruce purred in the Joker’s ear.

“God yes!”

Bruce slapped him, “You love it when I hit you...” He bit the Joker’s lip. In response, the clown just moaned. “You sick....little...fuck,” Bruce voice dropped lower, until he was whispering in a gravely, rasping voice. “You want me to hurt you.”

“Please, please, please, oh god, Batman!”

“I’m gonna fuck you....and it’s gonna hurt, won’t it?”

“I want it, I want you do it, I need it, hurt--I want it to hurt!” The Joker gasped. He tried to kiss Bruce and instead was slapped. “I wanna see,” he whimpered.

Bruce unzipped his pants and released his cock. The Joker licked his lips and unabashedly stared. For a moment, Bruce thought about lube. Then he realized that he wanted to hurt the Joker. The thought made his cock pulse. He quickly yanked the Joker’s pants off, and as an after thought pulled the Joker’s shoes off as well. Of course, he was wearing the checkered socks.

He shoved two fingers between the Joker’s lips.

The clown sucked eagerly, pulling the digits into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. His tongue slicked them with saliva. He licked them from root to top, all the while sucking mercilessly. The Joker grinned when he heard Bruce groan.

The fingers were withdrawn and positioned roughly at the Jokers entrance. Bruce shoved one inside. The Joker flung his head against the car. It hurt, it burned and stung, but he felt it--he could feel the pain so clearly and it felt good. The knowledge that Batman was fingering him, that Batman was watching him made him groan with pleasure. He was too far gone to distinguish pleasure or pain--it just was intoxicating.

Bruce licked his lips and removed the finger. He smeared precum quickly on his cock and nudged the Joker’s entrance with it. The clown writhed and hissed wordlessly.

“Do it!” The Joker snarled.

“Make me.”

The Joker’s eyes snapped open, “hit me.”

Bruce smacked him in the mouth and pressed his fingers to the Joker’s hips. He took a deep breath, and in one thrust, shoved himself inside the Joker. With a wail, the Joker slammed his cuffed hands against the car. His legs were in the air, spread around Bruce’s hips--toes curled. He thrust his hips desperately, begging for Bruce to move.

Slowly, Bruce drove his hips forward. He fisted one hand in the Joker’s hair and yanked the clowns neck back. Bruce licked his lips and gasped. It was hot and tight and the sensation was hurling him into a sensory overload. When the Joker began to laugh, it made him tug harder on the clown’s hair.

“If we’re gonna do this...do it, Brucie.” The Joker taunted.

Bruce slammed the Joker into the hood. He slapped the Joker and drove himself in and out in a heated, vicious rhythm. He was fucking the Joker. The thought made Bruce’s breath hitch.

“C’mon....c’mon, you know you wanna go harder,” The Joker purred. His voice enraged Bruce, it was seductive and inviting--it wanted to bring Bruce down to his level...draw him into the depths of the Joker’s depravity and sickness. He thrust harder, slamming himself into the Joker. Bruce angled his hips and the Joker screamed. Bruce grinned savagely and pounded that one spot, reducing the man beneath him to a pile of twitching, shuddering limps. Bruce splayed his hands on the Joker’s hips, fingers pressing into that pale skin. He watched as the Joker wriggled in pleasure. The Joker was panting and gasping, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were parted, slick with saliva. Every thrust made the Joker’s toes curl, his fingertips dug desperately into the hood of the car.

Bruce finally leaned down and kissed the Joker feverishly. He couldn’t bear to watch. Their chests were crushed together and Bruce continued to fuck the Joker into the hood of the Lamborghini.

Silently, Bruce pulled the Joker upright, so the maniac was sitting on the edge of the car. The change in angle made the Joker shiver. He pressed himself against Bruce, desperate to feel the billionaires skin slick against his. The Joker swung his cuffed arms over Bruce’s head, fingertips digging into Bruce’s back.

The Joker’s cuffed arms forced Bruce’s face against the Joker’s. They were panting against each other. Bruce bit the Joker’s bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and tugging. The Joker whimpered and his eyes fluttered shut. Bruce released his lip and instead lavished attention on the Joker’s ear. His tongue traced the shell while his teeth latched onto the Joker’s ear lobe. He could feel the Joker’s body shake.

“Bruce...” The Joker grunted, he burred his face in the other man’s neck and made helpless little noises. Those sounds made Bruce inexplicably angry and he thrust harder, faster, teeth digging into the Joker’s skin. “God you’re hot,” The Joker hissed. He tried to fist his hands in Bruce’s thick, dark hair and almost succeeded. When the Joker lurched forward to nibble at his neck, Bruce knew he had lost control.

The Joker bit fervently at his skin, sucking the flesh in time with Bruce’s thrusts, tongue working. He licked a stripe up Bruce’s neck to pant against the other man’s lips. “You wanna know a secret?” The Joker gasped.

Bruce bit his lip in response. He was so close. He thrust harder and faster, making the Joker gasp and pressed closer to him. He glanced down to see that the Joker’s cock was hard and slick, begging for attention. Bruce closed his hand around it and pumped. His hand moved in time with his thrusts and the Joker flopped limply against him.

“It’s a fundamental human condition,” The Joker hissed, throwing his head back when Bruce hit his prostate. Bruce, mind hazed with the feeling of an impending orgasm, saw exposed skin and began to lick and kiss it. “You can’t have just one taste...it’s...addictive.”

“Fuck, just stop talking,” Bruce grunted. He flicked his thumb roughly over the Joker’s slit, desperate to make the clown shut up. He bit the clowns’ neck and moved his hand faster.

The Joker buried his face in Bruce’s neck and came with a wail, his toes curled and his whole body shook. Bruce slammed the Joker flat onto the hood and pressed his face into the Joker’s chest. The Joker tightened around him and Bruce could feel an orgasm washing over him. With a few thrusts, he came as well, spilling himself in thick ropes inside the Joker. Bruce’s knees trembled and he muffled a groan into the Joker’s chest, eyes squeezed shut. Bruce flopped against the Joker and they lay there quietly, panting and trying to catch their breaths.

When the Joker’s fingers curled, gently, in Bruce’s hair, the billionaire stumbled away. He quickly zipped up his pants and moved as far from the Joker as he could. Leaning against the Lamborghini, he took a long, slow breath.

He just fucked the Joker.

Quietly, the Joker slipped off the hood. He found the handcuff keys on the ground and while Bruce wrestled with the morality of the act he’d just committed, the Joker removed the handcuffs and zipped his pants. He didn’t bother trying to button the shirt, Bruce had torn them off. The Joker, almost gingerly, leaned on the hood beside Bruce.

Bruce glanced at the Joker.

“I still have to write you a speeding ticket.”

Bruce cracked a grin. “You know what I have to do tomorrow? The company’s merging with...I forgot the name. I’m supposed to go, make a speech, and pretend to be Bruce Wayne...”

“And then tomorrow night you hafta beat the hell outta me, pretend that that’s making you happy and then go back to being miserable as Bruce...” The Joker giggled, “Busy life, there Brucie.”

“So...does this change things?” Bruce asked.

The Joker shrugged.

Bruce sighed he flung open the drivers side door. “Get in.” He nodded towards the passengers seat. The Joker grinned and slipped into the car. Bruce quickly turned the car on, smirking as he felt the engine shudder to life. He floored the gas pedal and they pulled onto the road.

The Joker rolled down his window, grinning like a mad dog. “Where’re we going? Arkham?”

Bruce shrugged, “Just wasting time.”

The Joker laughed and switched on the radio.

The song that drifted from the speakers was catchy and the Joker squealed and cranked up the volume.

I'm your villain
But serious
You're so serious....



Bruce frowned at the Joker.


If I could laugh I'd love you
If I could smile at anything you said
We could be laughing lovers
I think you'd prefer to be miserable instead
If I could love I'd love you
If I could love like anybody else




“Funny.” Bruce growled.

The Joker grinned at him, “Reminds me of you, batsy, I listen to it when I get lonely.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. He pressed the gas pedal harder and the car sped up.

“So we’re just wasting time?”

“I’ve got nothing to do till dawn.”

“Then do you turn into a pumpkin?” The Joker giggled. Bruce grinned and fixed his gaze on the road. With a sigh the Joker relaxed into the leather seat.

“So...is the sex part of police procedure?"

"Nah, that was special for you," The Joker laughed. "But, uh, it is illegal to fuck an officer just to get out of a speeding ticket. Naughty, naughty." Then, almost as an after thought: “You know,” he said, conversationally, “A man can only live with half a life for so long...”

“Well....we’ll see how long I can last.”

The Joker just laughed.

Bruce Wayne liked to drive fast. When he was behind the wheel, things seemed to make more sense. He glanced over at the Joker and smiled. He felt...content, for a brief moment, he had some peace. He sighed and slouched into his seat--eyes fixed on the road.
 
 
Current Location: warm
Current Mood: excitedexcited
Current Music: She wants revenge--monologue
 
 
rugby_wing10 on January 12th, 2009 03:30 am (UTC)
OMG! So much love! That was incredibly engaging, well written and lets be honest HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT!!! I love this as much as i love the original comic (and god do I ever hope it ends like your story!)
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:19 am (UTC)
squeee!

thank you!

love is fun :)
la_belle_atroxla_belle_atrox on January 12th, 2009 03:32 am (UTC)
Oh. My. God.
I am all hot and bothered.
This is love. Love love.

In my opinion you did that wonderfu little comic justice. For sure!
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:20 am (UTC)
thank you!!

ahaha, i'm glad i did the comic justice, I was worried my lil PWP would be totally lame & unsmexy. :)
ebocthebuffleebocthebuffle on January 12th, 2009 04:03 am (UTC)
Oh. My. God. I'm completely speechless right now.

That...was amazing. I cannot sufficiently describe just how fantastic this is. I LOVE THIS! 8D
That was unbelievably HOT. Holy shit.

(And omfg, that was so much better than the crap I came up with for the next part of my comic lmfao XD)
I like danced and squealed with joy when you mentioned parts from my doodles!

I can't believe my scribbles inspired you to make THIS. You are AWESOME! My comic has taken a different (and SO not as brilliantly awesome) turn, unfortunately. I hope you wouldn't mind if I doodled in a couple of little shout-outs to this masterpiece in future parts...?

Because you are AMAZING! <3
slicensmileslicensmile on January 12th, 2009 05:43 am (UTC)
Don't sell yourself short! Your comic is both hot and adorable... and I can't wait to see what you draw next. :D
(no subject) - madwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:21 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - ebocthebuffle on January 13th, 2009 01:03 am (UTC) (Expand)
something_grand: dedicationsomething_grand on January 12th, 2009 04:19 am (UTC)
Uhhhhhhhh *brainmelt*

Yeahhhhh ... that was hot ... but you already know that xD!

I could actually see the pictures when I was reading this! Oh my, way to be descriptive, and the kisses were one of the hottest parts of this fic, imho ...
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:21 am (UTC)
ewwwww runny brains

:)

thank you! Glad it was descriptive--that's one thing I've been trying to work on
(Deleted comment)
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:22 am (UTC)
that song=my life

thank you!!
(Deleted comment)
slicensmileslicensmile on January 12th, 2009 05:42 am (UTC)
HeHEE... seconded.

Plz to write moar?
(no subject) - astraea on January 12th, 2009 09:32 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - theflyingbeet on January 13th, 2009 12:02 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - madwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:33 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - theflyingbeet on January 13th, 2009 01:11 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - madwabbit on January 13th, 2009 01:37 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - madwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:22 am (UTC) (Expand)
slicensmileslicensmile on January 12th, 2009 05:41 am (UTC)
Nnnnngh. Uh... yeah... incredibly hot. And really beautifully written and complete.

And did I mention incredibly fucking hot???
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:24 am (UTC)
thank you!!

i'm so glad it was good--ahaha, i spent my sunday writing it instead of studying for midterms. :)
mukanshinmukanshin on January 12th, 2009 06:11 am (UTC)
Very lovely, and hot!

But this...

The Joker pulled away, singing, “I was made for lovin’ you baby, you were made for looovin’ me...” Then he promptly turned away and vomited.

Batman sighed.


Killed me. ♥
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:24 am (UTC)
ahahah

thank you!

oh that joker, such a rascal :)
aaprrill on January 12th, 2009 06:42 am (UTC)
OMG! I love how you made it fluffy in the end. Joker is all cute and cuddly. Aw.


GOOD GOD!!
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:24 am (UTC)
I'm such a fluff ball, i make everything fluffly!

hhahaha



bloody cape: Batman: Maskbatsyx on January 12th, 2009 07:01 am (UTC)
WOW. srsly you just killed me here. this was too amazingly brilliant. ASKFGKLASJDLKAJSGALKJF!!!!!
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:25 am (UTC)
OMG

i killed you?

....shit....i should proooobably run to cuba now....

glad you liked! :)
ereshkigal2 on January 12th, 2009 07:14 am (UTC)
That was impressive! It was some heavy and meaningful PWP.
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:26 am (UTC)
thank ye!

i started out trying to write smut and I ended up getting all deep and meaningful....

*sigh*

;)
astraea on January 12th, 2009 09:21 am (UTC)
This was a really incredible PWP! You did something truly amazing with this :D And it all started from those sexy drawings, oh my! I have no words to say how much I loved this fic but...damn! You still write some of the hottest sex scenes I've ever read I'll just say that instead ;) This more than completes the art it was insired by.
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:26 am (UTC)
those drawings were pretty damn amazing

wowzers, considering I am like THE most awkward person I find it hilarious that my sex scenes aren't :)

super glad you liked!
alevynalevyn on January 12th, 2009 11:47 am (UTC)
OMG!!!!!!!!!!
Awesome. You make me droll everytime when you wrote fics.
I loooove it XD
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:27 am (UTC)
you make me drool every time you comment on my fics!!

thank you!

glad you liked :)
(Deleted comment)
astraea on January 12th, 2009 01:55 pm (UTC)
Well you know Joker just can't stop his philosophising even when he's really turned on ;)
(no subject) - madwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:28 am (UTC) (Expand)
pepper: Jokerjean_c_pepper on January 12th, 2009 03:07 pm (UTC)
I really enjoyed this. The sex was hot, but the interaction was so much better. They are both so out of control and this fic pointed it out.
madwabbitmadwabbit on January 13th, 2009 12:29 am (UTC)
thank you!

I sort of wanted to make batsy & J darker and crazier, but, per usual, i turned them into fluffy kittens. :)

glad you liked!